If suicide be supposed a crime, it is only cowardice can impel us
to it. If it be no crime, both prudence and courage should
engage us to rid ourselves at once of existence when it becomes a
burden. It is the only way that we can then be useful to
society, by setting an example which, if imitated, would preserve
every one his chance for happiness in life, and would effectually
free him from all danger or misery.
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Life is like a movie, if you've sat through more than half of it and its sucked every second so read more
Life is like a movie, if you've sat through more than half of it and its sucked every second so far, it probably isn't gonna get great right at the end and make it all worthwhile. None should blame you for walking out early.
When Fannius from his foe did fly
Himself with his own hands he slew;
Who e'er a read more
When Fannius from his foe did fly
Himself with his own hands he slew;
Who e'er a greater madness knew?
Life to destroy for fear to die.
There is no refuge from confession but suicide; and suicide is
confession.
There is no refuge from confession but suicide; and suicide is
confession.
He
That kills himself to avoid misery, fears it,
And, at the best, shows but a bastard read more
He
That kills himself to avoid misery, fears it,
And, at the best, shows but a bastard valour.
This life's a fort committed to my trust,
Which I must not yield up, till it be forced:
Nor will I. He's not valiant that dares die,
But he that boldly bears calamity.
Britannia's shame! There took her gloomy flight,
On wing impetuous, a black sullen soul . . .
read more
Britannia's shame! There took her gloomy flight,
On wing impetuous, a black sullen soul . . .
Less base the fear of death than fear of life.
O Britain! infamous for suicide.
You have a choice. Live or die. Every breath is a choice. Every minute is a choice. To be or read more
You have a choice. Live or die. Every breath is a choice. Every minute is a choice. To be or not to be.
Our time is fixed, and all our days are number'd;
How long, how short, we know not:--this we know,
read more
Our time is fixed, and all our days are number'd;
How long, how short, we know not:--this we know,
Duty requires we calmly wait the summons,
Nor dare to stir till Heaven shall give permission.
But if there be an hereafter,
And that there is, conscience, uninfluenc'd
And suffer'd to speak out, read more
But if there be an hereafter,
And that there is, conscience, uninfluenc'd
And suffer'd to speak out, tells every man,
Then must it be an awful thing to die;
More horrid yet to die by one's own hand.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely
read more
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th' unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin?
